Thank You
by clair beaubien
Summary: Ch1: The Apocalypse is almost upon them and Sam leaves his journal where prying eyes can see... Up now: Ch 2 - what Dean wrote in his journal after Sam was gone.
1. Chapter 1

Dean woke up in the middle of the night. No Sam. Usually that wasn't a problem, especially at Bobby's. But they were down to the wire now on the whole "stop the Apocalypse" problem and unless some ginormous last minute miracle appeared, in a couple of days Sam would be throwing himself into hell, trapped forever in a cage with evil in its oldest, purest form.

So Sam being anywhere away from Dean in the meantime was not a good thing.

He went downstairs and found Sam at the kitchen table. Working in the light of the small lamp that sat there, he was writing in his journal, dunking a tea bag in a cup, and eating something Dean couldn't make out from a plate in front of him. It could've been ten years ago, with Dean finding Sam awake at all hours, studying, doing homework, reading some book or another that had nothing to do with hunting.

It could've been, but it wasn't.

"Hey." Dean walked into the kitchen.

"Hey." Sam sounded happy to see him there. "Water's hot, want some tea?"

"Sounds good."

Dean took the seat across the table as Sam stood up and pushed the plate closer.

"Help yourself."

Up close, Dean finally realized what Sam had been eating. White toast, buttered and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Poor man's cinnamon toast. Sam had cut it into four fingers, they way he used to eat it when he was little. A couple times in their lives, they even had powdered sugar to make frosting for their bounty. No such luck this time apparently.

Dean picked up one of the fingers and took a bite. Sam's journal lay open on the table just in front of him. It was upside down, facing away, but like picking a lock or stitching a wound, reading things upside down was a handy skill in their line of work.

_Thank you for carrying me out of the house the night Mom died_

_Thank you for how hard you had to work to give me as much normal in my life as you could_

_Thank you for teaching me how to drive_

_Thank you for all the times you made me laugh when I didn't feel like it_

_Thank you for all the times you didn't laugh at me when you could have_

_Thank you for __always__ forgiving me_

_Thank you for believing in me, especially all the times I didn't want you to_

_Thank you for not asking me to not go to Stanford_

_Thank you for going to hell for me_

_Thank you for coming back from hell _

_Thank you for always being my big brother, even when I got bigger than you_

_Thank you for pushing the seat in the car back farther than was comfortable for you when my back hurt_

Sam came back to the table then with a cup of tea for Dean.

"Thanks."

"Sure."

They drank tea and Sam pushed his journal a little out of the way, which was just a little closer to Dean.

"Can't sleep?" Dean asked, though it seemed a stupid, not to mention obvious, question.

"Making some notes." Sam shrugged like he knew that seemed a little absurd. Notes about stopping the end of the world? Like _that_ situation was going to come up again? "Kinda hard habit to break."

"Yeah."

The toaster popped then and Sam got up again and Dean went back to his upside down reading.

_Thank you for always making me sleep in the backseat even though the front seat wasn't comfortable for you either_

_Thank you for teaching me how to defend myself_

_Thank you for being there so often that I hardly ever HAD to defend myself_

_Thank you for liking Jess_

_Thank you for liking Sarah_

_Thank you for trusting me every single Groundhog Day even though every single time you thought I was nuts_

_Thank you for letting me have the last of the Lucky Charms_

_Thank you for always making me believe you never got scared_

_Thank you for kissing me goodnight every night when I was little_

_Thank you for wearing the amulet I gave you even when you were level 10 pissed at me_

_Thank you for convincing Dad to let me take soccer_

_Thank you for not calling me a freak, even once, even joking, since Jack Montgomery_

_Thank you for always putting yourself between me and any dangerous thing, even especially if sometimes that dangerous thing was me_

_Thank you for all the times you told me not to give up my faith and prayer, especially when you didn't believe in it_

_Thank you for all the times you didn't tell Dad I'd screwed up_

_Thank you for trying to push me out of myself after Jess died_

_Thank you for being the first thing I'd always see after I had a vision_

_Thank you for all the painkillers and water (that sometimes seem to magically appear) after I'd had a vision_

_Thank you for helping me plastic up my cast after I broke my arm whenever I took a shower_

_Thank you for cheering for me louder than anybody else got cheered for when I graduated high school_

_Thank you for knowing how much Dad loved me and I loved him, even when I was sure neither of us did_

"Here we go, fresh…" Sam came back to the table with another small plateful of make-do cinnamon toast. "And this…" He set a teacup of powdered sugar frosting on the table and dipped a toast finger into it. "Almost like old times, hunh?"

"_Almost_…" Dean allowed. There'd been lots of times he'd watched Sam, looking for some hint that he was about to disappear again, to Flagstaff, to Pastor Jim's, to Stanford, to normal. He'd never had to look at Sam and know that he was about to lose him forever, with no hope of getting him back. No demon could open that cage and let Sam – and only Sam – out.

They finished the toast and their tea and Sam covered a yawn.

"I'm gonna head back upstairs…" Sam said. "I'm falling asleep sitting here." He put the empty plates and cups into the sink, and left the kitchen.

And left his journal behind.

Dean didn't turn it around, just in case Sam came back looking for it.

_Thank you for all the times you said you understood, even when you didn't_

_Thank you for all the times you did understand, even when you thought you didn't_

_Thank you for constantly telling the universe and every single creature in it that I was worth more than they ever thought I was_

_Thank you for enduring all my 'chick flick' moments, including this one_

_Thank you for showing me that bravery doesn't mean not being scared; it means being scared shitless and going ahead anyway_

_Thank you for never needing or wanting me to thank you_

_Thank you that you will never forget me_

_Thank you for putting this in my backpack when you're done reading it and never mentioning it again_

That last one made Dean look up, expecting Sam to be standing in the doorway, glaring or grinning at him. But the doorway was empty and the house was quiet. He grabbed the journal, turned off the lamp and took himself back upstairs.

Sam was in bed, with his eyes shut tight and the covers pulled tighter. Dean slipped the journal into Sam's open backpack.

"_You're a smartass, you know that_." He whispered.

"_Yeah, I know."_ Sam whispered back, with more than a little smirk in his voice.

Ah, the hell with it. Dean reached down and ruffled Sam's hair. It was as close to a kiss goodnight as he was gonna get, even with the Apocalypse looming on their doorstep.

"_Thanks, Sammy."_ He said, and his voice was rougher than he meant it to be. "I'll see you in the morning."

The End.


	2. I wish

_I should've hugged you one last time._

_I should've said I love you. OUT LOUD._

_I should've told you how proud I was of you._

_How proud I AM of you, and always was and always will be. _

_I should've let you drive the car more often. Every once in a while. When it wasn't raining._

_I should've not been so hard on you. So often._

_I should've listened to you with my instincts instead of my fear after I came back from hell._

_Maybe we could've listened to your music once in awhile. One song. Every couple of months. _

_I hope you know that if Dad hadn't been there, I would've pulled you out of your crib myself. _

_I hope you know that I don't regret going to hell to save you._

_I hope you know that you will always be the most amazing person in my life. _

_And the most annoying, smart-ass, dumb-ass, pain-in-the-ass I ever knew. _

_I hope you know how hard I always tried to deserve how much you looked up to me. _

_Or maybe I hope you __didn't__ know that. _

_I hope you know how much you meant to me. _

_I should've told you more often. _

_I'm glad we celebrated Christmas before I went to hell._

_I wish we'd celebrated this last Christmas._

_I wish we'd found some other way to save the world._

_I wish I could hear you call me jerk one last time. _

_I wish you were three years old and I could give you a bath and put you into your pajamas and tuck you in and read you a story and kiss you goodnight and sit next to you until you fell asleep. _

_Sammy, I wish you were HERE. _

Three fat teardrops hit the page, _SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT_, smearing the ink and puckering the paper_._ Damn it, that was gonna be a dead giveaway. With short, jerky, desperate movements, the journal got shoved back in the duffel and the duffel got shoved back between the bed and the bedside table.

Just in time too, as the door opened and Dean came into the motel room.

"Look who's awake." He said, grinning. He was always grinning these days. Sam couldn't get enough of it. "Ready to get some dinner?"

"Definitely." Sam answered, grinning himself. He grabbed his jacket and walked to the door. As they came even, Dean pulled him into an impulsive and heartfelt hug. He was always doing that these days.

Sam couldn't get enough.

The End.


End file.
